


Breathe easy

by Yukichouji



Category: Archie Comics & Related Fandoms, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Fluff, Jughead Has Asthma, Jughead being stupid and irresponsible, M/M, Prompt Fill, Protective Sweet Pea (Riverdale), So sort of AU?, Soft Sweet Pea (Riverdale)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:13:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22973848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yukichouji/pseuds/Yukichouji
Summary: Jughead’s been dealing with this shit since he was little, though it used to be way worse back then. He’d have attacks all the time but his parents couldn’t always afford to get refills for his inhalers, so he spent more time than he really wants to recall bent over a bowl filled with hot water and eucalyptus chest rub with a towel over his head. Inhaling the steam and trying to calm himself down enough to be able to breathe right again. That was honestly some of the scariest shit he’d ever gone through.ORFill for a tumblr promt asking for Jughead with asthma and Sweet Pea carrying a spare inhaler for him because Jughead keeps forgetting his.
Relationships: Jughead Jones/Sweet Pea
Comments: 15
Kudos: 150





	Breathe easy

**Author's Note:**

> I got an ask on [tumblr](https://yukichouji.tumblr.com/) that read as follows:
> 
> _Imagine if Jughead had asthma and sweet pea carried a spare inhaler around cause Jughead wouldn't like half the time_
> 
> And I just couldn't resist! <3
> 
> This may actually be the first not E-rated fic I have ever written lol Ah, well. I hope you enjoy :)
> 
> As a side note: I, personally do not have asthma, so my portrayal may very likely not be a 100% accurate. I did some short research, but if I got anything wrong, please let me know. There's no harm meant!

~*~*~

Jughead’s been dealing with this shit since he was little, though it used to be way worse back then. He’d have attacks all the time but his parents couldn’t always afford to get refills for his inhalers, so he spent more time than he really wants to recall bent over a bowl filled with hot water and eucalyptus chest rub with a towel over his head. Inhaling the steam and trying to calm himself down enough to be able to breathe right again. That was honestly some of the scariest shit he’d ever gone through.

Feeling like he was suffocating slowly, like his lungs had just stopped working right all of a sudden, his throat closing up like a vice, and with no idea, if he’d actually die this time or if it’d stop again before that could happen. He knew his parents were breaking their heads about it, worried sick, and he remembers thinking it was his fault that he couldn’t manage to get a handle on the attacks. That, if he’d just find a way to stop himself from having them, then maybe his parents would stop fighting all the time, too.

Then, that one time, he had an attack while he was at Archie’s and his inhaler had been empty again and Archie’s dad had gotten so angry about it. At the time Jughead hadn’t understood that Fred hadn’t been angry _at him_ and he’d apologized so often his throat’d felt sore from all the talking. After that, though, miraculously his parents had been able to afford to refill his inhaler whenever he needed to and they even got him a spare one to keep around for emergencies.

It wasn’t until much later that Jughead found out Fred had offered to let the pharmacy send him the bills, taking that burden off of his parents shoulders so that they’d be able to treat their son’s condition properly. And that he’d never stopped doing it, even after Jughead’s mom grabbed Jellybean and bailed on him and Fred and Jughead’s dad had that falling out that led to Fred firing FP from his job as foreman at Andrew’s Construction. Jughead’s not entirely sure how to feel about it.

Grateful, mostly, but also deeply embarrassed. He’d never wanted to burden anyone like that, least of all his best friend’s dad, who’d done so much for him already, and a more selfish part of himself hated being reliant on hand-outs, on a kind of charity that carried that much weight. So he tried to use his inhaler as rarely as possible and, with time, even started forgetting to carry it with him regularily.

It wasn’t even all that bad, really. The older he got, the less frequent his attacks became. It would only really be an issue, if he got really stressed out and over-excreted himself or during the winter months, if he stepped out into the cold too quickly and his lungs had trouble adjusting. And since he mostly avoided physical exerciser as a rule, he could get by pretty well, all things considered. Also, caffeine was a pretty good way to keep his symptoms in check as it turned out. He’d read somewhere that it’s closely related to the active component of an older drug for asthma treatment, so he usually kept himself well dosed up on coffee, just to be safe.

But lately, ever since he joined the Serpents and especially since the Gargoyles showed up and started messing with them, he’s been finding himself in less than ideal circumstances more and more. And his habit of forgetting to pocket his inhaler has kind of been coming back to bite him in the ass, there having been more than one incident where he’d just barely made it back home in time to stave off an outright attack. He’s been trying to get better at remembering, but there’s just so much shit going on that it simply slips his mind most of the time.

The first time he has an asthma attack in front of his fellow Serpents, it pretty much scares the shit out of everyone. They’ve been chasing down Gargoyles all day, trying to smoke them out of their hidey-holes and drive them out of town to stop the drug-flow the Gargoyles’ve been perpetuating for his mom. It’s been a long fucking day and Jughead’s already feeling tired and cranky, his chest a little tighter than usual and a mild but insistent cough making him clear his throat periodically. He should really be able to read the signs by now, but he’s just too focused on their task to pay proper attention. In the end he’s only got himself to blame.

And then this one asshole decides to bolt on them, trying to make a run for it and Fangs is supposed to be watching him but he gets distracted by something and isn’t quick enough to stop him and for some reason, out of pure reflex (or stupidity, as Jughead later muses) Jughead goes chasing after the guy with Sweet Pea hard on his heels. The guy gets away, too, because fifty yards into the chase or so, Jughead’s throat pulls tight and his lungs freeze up and he can’t fucking breathe anymore.

He makes it to the nearest wall just so, one hand clutching at his chest the other reaching for some kind of support to help hold himself up, air wheezing insufficiently through his throat and that old, familiar panic pulling at his thoughts insistently. Threatening to make it worse as the world starts to grow fuzzy around the edges with the lack of oxygen and his legs start to grow weak. Sweet Pea skids to a halt next to him, hands all over him, trying to figure out what’s going.

“T-trailer.” Jughead just so manages to press out in between the coughing and the wheezing and he knows the harder he fights it the worse it’s going to get, but it’s so fucking hard to try and make himself relax just then. He’d almost forgotten how bad it can feel. Sweet Pea switches into his ‘emergency mode’, calm and competent in the face of crisis, the way Jughead now knows he can be despite his usual, goofy persona, while everyone else is just kind of panicking.

Sweet Pea takes charge and gets people moving, hoists Jughead onto Sweet Pea’s bike and gets him back to the trailer in record speed. Jughead clings to Sweet Pea’s calm like it’s a lifeline, uses it to keep himself from freaking out completely, like the total asshole that he is, to keep himself conscious and holding on until he can stumble into the trailer’s kitchen with Sweet Pea’s help and rummage through the misc drawer until he finds his inhaler.

Once the medicine’s kicked in and his throat has opened up enough for him to be able to take deep, satisfactory breaths again, his pulse slowly calming and his head no longer spinning like he’s about to pass out, Sweet Pea sits him down and they have a good, long _Talk_. Sweet Pea and him have been sharing a some pretty intense make-out sessions for a couple of weeks now, though Jughead’s not entirely sure what exactly they are to each other. Friends, definitely. Boyfriends, maybe.

Neither of them has bothered to put a label on it, yet, and Jughead’s kind of OK with that, but as the conversation goes on he’s beginning to get the impression that Sweet Pea’s taking this thing a lot more serious than Jughead would have thought. It makes his chest feel all fluttery and weird, though not in that pre-asthma attack kind of way, thank God, and he can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips, regardless of how pissed Sweet Pea is at him right now.

“So, you’ve got fucking asthma and you never thought to mention it before?! Because that’s the kind of shit you fucking tell people, for God’s sake!” Sweet Pea lays into him and Jughead ducks his head sheepishly, a self-conscious grimace replacing the smile, because Sweet Pea is kind of right. It’s not like Jughead deliberately kept it form him or anything, it just kind of never came up, is all. They’d been a little to busy shoving their tongues down each other’s throats in during the moments they’d been able to steal for themselves in the midst of all this recent chaos to really get to talking.

“Sorry?” Jughead tries, suitably chagrined, and when Sweet Pea just crosses his arms in front of his chest, very much unamused, Jughead sighs and elaborates some more. “I’ve had it pretty much all my life. It used to be a lot worse, when I was little. I thought I had a good enough handle on it. I mean, I do! Today just caught me by surprise, is all. I didn’t mean to keep it from you or anything. I guess I just didn’t think it was that important.”

“Of course it’s important, asshole!” Sweet Pea throws back at him, one eyebrow raised pointedly and Jughead chews on his bottom lip and runs a hand across the back of his head over the beanie, pretty embarrassed about the whole thing. “You know that could have ended really badly, right? What, if we hadn’t been able to get to the trailer in time? What, if we’d been stuck somewhere? And why the Hell aren’t you carrying your inhaler with you? Jeez.”

“I don’t know.” Jughead concedes, unable to meet Sweet Pea’s accusing gaze. “I keep trying to remember to take it with me, but it just kind of slips my mind?”

Sweet Pea sighs dramatically and deflates a little in his seat across form Jughead at the small dining table. “You are so bad at a taking care of yourself, man. It’s kind of ridiculous.” He sounds exasperated, but also kind of fond, Jughead notes.

“I haven’t been doing that badly, thanks.” Jughead feels the need to point out, a little dismayed, but there’s no real force behind it. He’s enough of a man to admit that Sweet Pea kind of has a point, however grudgingly.

Sweet Pea gets up out of his chair and steps in front of Jughead, holding out a hand. “Come here.” He says, a little disgruntled, but Jughead can clearly see the tenderness underneath, no matter how Sweet Pea tries to hide it with his gruff demeanor, and he takes Sweet Pea’s hand without hesitation, letting Sweet Pea pull him to his feet easily even with how leaden he feels. He’s tired and his head hurts and that attack pretty much drained him of his remaining energy reserves. All he wants to do is crawl into bed and sleep for a good, solid eight hours at least, but he’ll never be able to say no to Sweet Pea. It’s kind of scary how much of a hold Sweet Pea has on him already and Jughead very deliberately does not think about that right now.

“Do you have a spare one?” Sweet Pea asks him, holding his gaze, and it takes Jughead a moment to catch on to what he means, distracted by how close they are, by the heat he can feel radiating off of Sweet Pea’s body.

“What, an inhaler?” He shoots back dumbly and Sweet Pea just nods.

“Uh, yeah. I, somewhere. Give me a second.” Jughead furrows his brows and scrunches up his nose as he moves past Sweet Pea to the closet in the living room. He’s pretty sure he stashed the thing somewhere in there. It takes a bit of rummaging, but he eventually finds it buried underneath a couple pairs of his dad’s jeans on the bottom shelf.

Jughead turns around and brandishes it, even if just to prove that he’s not a _total_ idiot. He’s got this covered, thanks. Sweet Pea gives him a decidedly unimpressed look and takes the inhaler from him, gives it a critical look to check, if it’s still intact, and then tucks it into the pocket of his leather jacket.

Jughead watches him do it, a confused look on his face. “What are you -?” He starts, but Sweet Pea cuts him off, by cradling Jughead’s face in his big hands, surprisingly gentle for someone who’s so good at dealing out violence, and leaning in to place a soft kiss on Jughead’s slightly parted lips. Jughead finds himself melting into the touch easily, his previous objective all but forgotten. He just can’t help it.

“I’m keeping a hold of this.” Sweet Pea says after he’s pulled back, his hand patting the pocket with the inhaler in it lightly. “Just to be safe.”

It takes Jughead a moment to re-collect himself, his lips tingling a little and the loss of the warmth of Sweet Pea’s hands on him a somewhat disconcerting. “Oh.” He says, eloquent as ever, heat rushing into his cheeks. “OK.”

Sweet Pea just shakes his head at him, and sighs, drops his hands onto Jughead’s shoulders and starts to gently steer him towards the bedroom. “Come on. You look like you could use a couple days of sleep or something.”

Jughead really can’t argue with that, so he doesn’t.

~*~*~

Not surprisingly, Jughead doesn’t really get any better at remembering to keep his inhaler on him, even as things with the Gargoyles and his mom, with G&G and Fizzle Rocks and the Man in Black, who may or may not be Hiram Lodge, keep getting more an more stressful. He has to fall back on the spare inhaler Sweet Pea is carrying more than once, but to his quiet bemusement, he’s actually kind of OK with that.

Knowing that Sweet Pea’s got his back helps a lot, it gives him the confidence and the capacity to deal with the stuff that’s really important, like saving Riverdale, figuring out what and who’s really behind G&G and how to win this match of wits he’s locked in with his mom. It’s not even all that much of an exaggeration when he says that he’d trust Sweet Pea with his life, easily and happily. With Sweet Pea at his side, he knows he can do this, regardless of what else this town decides to throw at them.

~*~*~


End file.
